


Too Beautiful

by Meatball



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU where they never met in high school, Aged-Up Character(s), First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Rare Pairings, Sometime after the college years, Why is Akaaaaaaashi so pretty?, Why?, but seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6422686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball/pseuds/Meatball
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nishinoya Yuu finds the most beautiful things he's ever seen on the train and they're not even attached to Kiyoko or Suga.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Anon asked me, a multishipper, to take Akaashi x Nishinoya into consideration. 
> 
> So I did.
> 
> Bad anon. Good anon.

“I swear to god, Ryuu, they’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” Nishinoya Yuu gushes, taking a swig of his beer. “And I know Kiyoko _and_ Suga.”

“Wow,” Tanaka Ryuunosuke stares in amazement at his best bud, whose eyes are glazed over, looking at nothing in particular but obviously seeing something. “I don’t even know what to say, Noya. Better than Kiyoko is pretty...wow, I don’t even have the word for that.”

“I _KNOW,_ right?” Nishinoya responds, wide-eyed as he turns to Tanaka. “I'm tellin’ you, man, come by my work one of these nights and take the train home with me. You _have_ to see!”

“I believe you, man. I do, ” Tanaka reassures him, holding both hands up in surrender. “But yeah, I gotta admit I’m pretty curious.”

“Friday?”

“Friday.”

 

* * *

 

Nishinoya had his first run-in with the most beautiful things he’d ever seen on a Wednesday night, on the way home from work just over a month prior. Deep green eyes, with just a hint of grey to darken them, peeked above a cream-colored scarf that hid the rest of the face to which they belonged. They were heavy-lidded and narrow, making them look almost sleepy, but Nishinoya got the impression that they took in everything in front of them, observing from behind the veil of long, dark eyelashes.

It wasn’t long after that that those eyes noticed Nishinoya himself. They were, after all, two men on the same train three or four nights a week. They simply acknowledged each other with nods and went their ways, just a couple more passengers being shuttled around on the Tokyo metro.

Yet those eyes have never quite left Nishinoya’s mind. They are the first things he thinks of in the mornings, the last thought he has before he drifts off to sleep. Each encounter always leaves him feeling warm, the cold of winter all but disappearing as he floats happily from the train station back to his and Tanaka’s apartment.

He imagines how the rest of the man’s face looks around them, framed by the dark, wavy locks that stick out from under his beanie. He thinks about them at work, seeing them on every customer at the bookstore. He dreams about them at night and wakes up feeling like he’d been stripped bare — and not just because he’d slept naked.

Every day, at the first thought of them, his chest tightens as if to keep his fluttering heart from escaping. He’d been in love before, sure, but never with just a pair of eyes, especially whose owner he’d yet to speak to. He is well aware of the ridiculousness of his situation, that he is a man obsessed, yet completely helpless to the spell cast over him.

Tanaka is completely sold when he joins Nishinoya that Friday evening. They spend the ride speaking in frenzied whispers and the walk to their apartment alternatingly raving about The Train Guy and loudly wondering what he actually looks like under that scarf.

“Maybe he’s some kind of Frankenstein’s monster,” Tanaka speculates.

“What?” Nishinoya asks, throwing him a puzzled look.

“I dunno, man. Like, maybe he’s hiding a huge scar or three under there or something,” Tanaka explains. “Maybe...maybe he’s not that hot?” he says, but the doubtful lilt that ends his statement convinces neither of them. They both know he’s just trying to minimize the high expectations they had started putting on the poor stranger.

“I’m not sure I actually care if he does, Ryuu,” Nishinoya answers, solemnly but without hesitation. “Not as long he has those eyes.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you a fan?”

Nishinoya starts in his seat and lifts his head from the magazine he’s had his face buried in since he sat down. He’d started bringing something to read on the train home when The Train Guy kept catching his glances and stares. It at least kept him from looking like the weird stalker that he was turning into.

He’d been so engrossed in his reading that he didn’t even notice anyone take the seat next to him, where the muffled voice had come from. He turns his head to its source and is startled by a pair of grey-green eyes. The same beautiful pair that has captivated him for two months now. They are even more intense than he’d originally thought, seeing them so close and looking intently at him. His heart instantly goes from calm, steady beating to incessant violent banging against his ribs.   

“I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?” he asks, thankful that he doesn’t sound as nervous as he suddenly feels. The Train Guy was the last person he’d expected to run into tonight, having left work earlier than usual. Besides, it’s not even one of the nights when Nishinoya would see the man on the train.

Not that Nishinoya took stock of that.

The other man pulls the scarf down from his face as he nods toward the magazine Nishinoya has propped up on his bag. “Volleyball. Are you a fan?”

Time slows for Nishinoya as he stares, breathless and dumbfounded, at the newly-unveiled face. There are no secret scars. No deformities. Just elegant lines and porcelain skin. His eyes drop to The Train Guy’s pout, pale pink and slightly dry from the cold, dry air. He watches those lips part as the tip of The Train Guy’s tongue slips out and moves over them for some moisture. All the sounds around him become muffled as blood surges in his ears, not unlike the sound the train makes as it passes through a tunnel. He starts to feel lighter, the edges of his vision blurring, as the man next to him smiles, the corners of his mouth tugging up so very slightly. Nishinoya turns his head back to the magazine as if it was pulled by the knots tightening in his stomach.

“Oh,” he croaks out as the rushing of sound in his ears starts to decrease. “Oh, yeah,” he says again after clearing his throat. “I used to play. Back in high school,” he explains, smiling at the redheaded player pictured on the page. He takes a breath, his smile growing into a grin as old memories come back to him, eyes fixed on the picture while he calms his nerves.

“Me too,” his companion says, his mellow voice surprisingly soothing. The revelation about their shared interest nudges Nishinoya past his nervousness and he turns — whole body this time — to look back at the face that had disarmed him so.

“For real? What position d’ya play?” Nishinoya asks, eyes wide in excited curiosity.

“Setter. I played for one of the local schools here.” His new acquaintance gives him a gentle smile as he answers and it radiates a warmth that pours into Nishinoya, prompting him to return a smile of his own.

“Sweet!” Nishinoya replies, relaxing into the comfort of a familiar topic. “I played libero for my team.”

The Train Guy’s eyebrows go up and Nishinoya grins at him as he answers the question behind them. “I had a growth spurt towards the end of third year and another one the summer after,” he says, shifting and straightening in his seat, proudly tilting his head.

His neighbor lifts a hand to his mouth, eyes crinkling at the corners as he chuckles. Nishinoya is once again struck dumb. _For fuck’s sake, why-,_ how _is he so pretty?_ he asks himself, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” The Train Guy apologizes. “I shouldn’t laugh but-”

“Ah, no! It’s fine,” Nishinoya interjects, laughing along. “It was a really nice surprise, after I thought I’d...”

“-you looked adorable just now,” The Train Guy finishes and the rest of Nishinoya’s statement fades away to nothing.

“O-oh,” Nishinoya answers quietly, suddenly shy, face burning. “T-thanks,” he mutters, clutching at the magazine in his hands, willing himself to not turn away and almost failing.

“Akaashi Keiji,” The Train Guy says after a moment, extending his hand. Nishinoya stares at it, temporarily confused, before his brain clicks everything into place and he remembers his manners.

“N-nishinoya. Yuu. That’s me,” he says, stumbling over his own name as he shakes Akaashi’s hand. “Ah, but everyone calls me ‘Noya.’ Good to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, Noya-san,” Akaashi says, his voice once again at the hushed level that appears to be its default. “You can call me whatever.”

_How about ‘gorgeous?’_

Akaashi sits silently next to him. Noya watches one of his eyebrows goes up and a corner of his mouth twitches into the tiniest of smirks.

“You can call me whatever,” Akaashi says again, tiny smirk spreading across his lips as comprehension dawns on Nishinoya.

“Fuck. I’m sorry! I didn’t-,” Nishinoya stammers, drawing the eyes of other passengers around him as he raises his voice. “Ah, shit! I didn’t mean to just start cussing, either! I-,”  Nishinoya breathes in sharply and clamps his mouth shut to mitigate any further damage. He slumps back into his seat, barely noticing his head hit the window as he looks up at the train car’s ceiling and sighs. He has never before felt so... _ungrounded_ and it’s starting to drive him batty.

A gentle pressure on his arm makes him tilt his head while still leaning on the window. He flashes a resigned smile at Akaashi, whose lips are back to their pouty state, amusement visible only in his eyes.

“I swear I am _not_ like...this,” Nishinoya tells Akaashi, making haphazard gestures at the air in front of him.

“I’m sure you have your reasons,” Akaashi says, his voice soft and sympathetic.

“Yeah, but I have no excuses,” Nishinoya counters, looking back up at the ceiling. He plays through the encounter in his head, counting at least three times that he’s managed to fumble the conversation. They sit still for a few moments, letting silence settle between them before Nishinoya presses his lips together and takes a quick, cleansing breath through his nose.

“You are, though, you know,” he braves into the quiet between them, just loud enough for Akaashi to hear. “Gorgeous, I mean.” He takes another fortifying breath then risks looking at Akaashi.

The expression on Akaashi’s face is neutral but there is no mistaking the reddening of his cheeks. Surprised but emboldened, Nishinoya opens his mouth to speak when the PA system interrupts him to announce the next stop. He drums his fingers impatiently on the long-since-forgotten magazine as he waits for the announcement to finish and jumps at the chance to speak as soon as it is done.

“Keiji-san, if it’s okay with you-,”

“Noya-san, would you like to-,”

They stop and mutter apologies between awkward chuckles and urgings for the other to continue.

“Noya-san,” Akaashi tries again when Nishinoya insists by refusing to speak. Nishinoya gives him his full attention, noticing the flush deepen on Akaashi’s otherwise pale skin. “Would you like to join me for coffee?” he asks, more bashful than he has been since they started talking. “I know a great cafe at the next stop.”

Nishinoya feels his heart seize then jolt back to beating at twice the rate a moment later. He is slightly conscious of his lips parting as he stares at Akaashi in disbelief.

“You don’t have to, of course,” Akaashi adds. His voice is calm — indifferent, even — but Nishinoya spots the hope gleaming in Akaashi’s eyes.

“Ah, no,” Nishinoya answers. “I mean, no, I don’t have to,” he corrects himself quickly as he catches Akaashi’s hopefulness fall. “But I will. I’d love to join you, Keiji-san.”

 

* * *

 

**Broya  
** _No scars_

Tanaka is frowning at the phone in his hand when it beeps and another message comes through.

**Broya  
** _Back later._

“What’s up, Ryuu?” Sugawara asks, cocking his head and peering at him.

“I’m...not sure. Yet. But Noya’s not gonna be home for a while, it looks like,” Tanaka replies. “I guess we should go ahead without him,” he says, shrugging as he slips the phone back in his pocket.

Sugawara smirks as he gets up from the sofa. “What, did he get himself a hot date or something?” he jokes as he pulls on his coat. Tanaka’s phone beeps again.

**Broya  
** _His name is Keiji._

Tanaka blinks at the message then grins as realization hits him. He texts a quick acknowledgement in return and flashes his teeth at Sugawara.

“Yeah. I guess he did.”

**Author's Note:**

> So many ships. 
> 
> [Come set sail with me.](http://idontevenswim.tumblr.com) Bring a life vest.


End file.
